The atheist to wear the crucifix

 

The rope around my neck is evil-old,

As grown as sin, as wrung as elder wood.

 

Neck to the height of hell, the tower held

In sepulchre, the overhead as old.

 

I wore around my neck the execution,

The weight of gold, the burden of the passion.

 

Crossed in gold – embossed in sacrifice,

I wore the resurrection and the life. 

 

 

I am a recovering Catholic, or rather a Catholic in remission. I do still hunger for the gorgeous symbolism, and the sense of history which clings to the religion. I think the exploration of that symbolism is really where I got started with this one. 

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